


Funny Old Thing, Life

by lost_spook



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: dw_straybunnies, Gen, Genderswap, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a theory that, somewhere in a parallel universe, pretty much anything that can happen, has happened.  Including a universe where a female Doctor unexpectedly regenerates into a male.  Unlikely, but possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny Old Thing, Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for August's [Prompt of the Month](http://community.livejournal.com/dw_straybunnies/8901.html) over on dw_straybunnies. (For Juliet316, who asked for: _There was a lot she didn't tell her Companions about regeneration, this was one not even she expected to happen. Or was it he now?_

“What’s the betting I’m not ginger anymore?” said the newest Doctor, sitting up in the TARDIS following a difficult regeneration. “And I liked being ginger!”

The voice sounded unusually deep, so the Time Lord risked a peep in the mirror and then stopped. And looked down, up again, down at his hands, feet, and any other stray bits hanging around, and then back in the mirror. Well, _that_ was a surprise.

She was a man. Male. He was _male_. No, _she_ was male. Despite the fact there was way too much hair on the top of his or her head, s/he was definitely of the masculine persuasion this time around. S/he tugged at the hair and raised an eyebrow. 

So, recap, s/he thought. She was a male with considerable gender issues, but at least that was new and made up for no longer being bolshy and ginger. The Doctor loved new things. As new went, this was almost as good as an untouched field of snow.

“Okay,” s/he said, sitting up. “Could be useful. Plenty of backward times and places where I’ll have greater freedom to roam. On the down side, there’ll be some places I can never go again. Talking of which, better remember which facilities to use in an emergency, or there’ll be trouble.”

He got to his feet – yes, clearly it was _he_ now, and he’d have to remember it – and checked the state of the TARDIS. Not good, he thought, hastily extinguishing a small fire in one panel of the console, but the old boy would soon repair itself one way or the other.

“Okay, step away from the console, and tell me what you’re doing – and what you’ve done with the Doctor?”

Ah, he thought. He’d got as far as wondering how James was going to take it, and _not well_ seemed to be the answer.

*

“You’re saying you’re the Doctor?”

He nodded, and smiled hopefully at his current companion. (Things had been difficult over the last however-long-it-had-been, but no point moping about alone, after all.) “It’s new, isn’t it? I like new.”

“How do I know you’re not some lunatic who’s got in, killed the Doctor and put on her clothes?”

The Doctor frowned. “Well, it’s a bit unlikely, isn’t it? We were in mid-flight, and, anyway, how many murderers do you know who stop to steal the victim’s clothes and then try an unconvincing impersonation as a follow up to the main crime? I told you things had gone so far I might regenerate – I did explain the regenerate bit, didn’t I? I mean, I know I meant to.”

“Just about. You didn’t say you’d turn into a bloke!”

He folded his arms. “Well, no. It never happened before.”

“Okay,” he said. “But it’s weird. No offence, but really weird.”

“Great, isn’t it?”

James looked at him again. “Before we land, it might be a good idea to change out of the dress.”

“Yes, Sixteenth century fashion is a bit stiff,” he agreed, heading for the wardrobe, his heavy skirts rustling. “Not great for running.”

His fair-haired companion seemed to decide at that point it really was the Doctor, despite everything, and hurried after him. “Look, Doctor, a word of advice – no skirts, no matter what the century. As a general rule.”

“You think so?” he said, turning back. “Well, I’m always happiest in a pair of trousers. Fine by me.”

James glanced around the wardrobe. “None of those frilly blouses, though, either. I mean, not if it’s the present day again.”

“I know, I know,” said the Doctor, reaching for a shirt. “Look, a tie! I haven’t worn one of those since my fourth incarnation. And I’ve never had a bow tie -”

His companion said, “Fine. Right. Just – drop the skirt.” He thought about that, with an eye on the new Doctor. “No, don’t! Please. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Cool,” said the Doctor happily. “And, of course, if I get fed up, I can always wear a kilt, or a robe, for a change.” But, for now he thought, he had a bow tie, and bow ties were cool.

*

James was kicking the console. “Doctor, I wanted to ask something important.”

“Yes,” he said, and then leant forward. “And, James, that bit where we used to kiss – we don’t do that any more, right?”

He stared back at him. “Are you feeling okay? You’ve never kissed me – well, except for that one time, but that wasn’t actually you, which was how we knew that – never mind. Are you sure you’re the Doctor?”

“Must be thinking of some other blonde bloke, then,” he muttered. “Anyway, I’m not kissing anyone, until I’m finished cooking. Hmm. There’s that River fellow. Given – well… Mind you, he did say things would have changed a lot by the time we next met.”

James sighed. Some things didn’t alter with gender, obviously: the Doctor still talked incessantly. “I wanted to ask you how it’s possible that half an hour earlier you were a woman, and now you’re a man!”

“Regeneration,” he said. “Anything can happen. The previous time I had a northern accent and was a whizz at playing the piano. Is this any stranger?”

“Yes,” said James. “And I’ve never seen regeneration before. Um. Nice bow tie, Doctor.”

He smiled. “Thanks. And I’ve still got plenty of hair, so if I want to put on a dress, I could probably get away with it-”

“Best not,” said James. “You always attract enough attention as it is.”

The Doctor took a deep breath. “Okay, your question: you’re right – up to a point. This isn’t usual, even for a Time Lord. The pattern of one regeneration tends to dictate the next to some degree – once the pattern is set, swapping certain fundamentals, like sex, becomes increasingly unlikely – and this is my tenth time, so the odds against it have got to be pretty high. There used to be jokes about it at the Academy, but I can’t remember an actual example.”

“So why’s it happened to you, now, then?”

He played with the controls of the console. (Long fingers. Those were good. Larger hands. Could be useful.) “Anything’s possible, although there could be interesting timey-wimey type reasons. Say, for example, if someone rebooted the universe, that sort of thing, possibly at the same moment – insofar as there can be a same moment with these things – as I regenerated, allowing me to take on the pattern of an alternate me, who happened to be male.”

“Really?”

“It’s possible. Not very likely, though, is it? Probably a genetic kink that’s not manifested itself before. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“I think I’d go for a stronger word myself.”

The Doctor beamed. “No, fascinating sums it up nicely. I wonder what happens next time, though? That’s going to be the _really_ interesting part…”

“One other thing,” said James, giving a cough. “I don’t want you to think me small-minded or anything, but … well, the shoes. Just… don’t. Not with that outfit. Besides, you used to say heels were painful and impractical and if I suggested you wore them, you’d thwack me over the head with something.”

He looked down again. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m going to be much more laid back in this regeneration, I can tell. And… are you sure? Stilettos are cool. I wear stilettos now -”

Moments later, after he had an incident with the TARDIS flooring – not designed for high heels – he changed his mind, to James’s relief, and flung the offending shoes out into space.

“Good thinking, James,” he said “Now, where shall we go first?”

*

“So you’re saying there could be a mirror universe where you’re female, I’m male, and Rory’s female? How does that work? Where’s the logic in it? More importantly, what would we all look like?”

The Doctor leant back on the floor, putting his arms folded behind his head, as he addressed Amy. “I don’t know. I was only hypothesising on something an old computer once told me, and, to be fair, it did also tell me it was senile and completely round the bend. I’m not saying it’s true, mind, only that it’s possible. Interesting place, the multi-verse. I mean, the universe is fascinating as it is. When you start taking in all the alternatives, like that weird one with nothing but shrimp, you never know what could be out there.”

Rory had not been following this properly. “Is that why you keep calling me Mr Pond?”

The Doctor grinned happily, and pretended not to have heard him. “What? Sorry? Anyway, we’ve landed. We’ll discuss a universe of infinite possibilities another time, after we’ve been for a quick look round. It’ll only take five minutes.”

“Fine,” said Amy. “Except if this is the one with all the shrimp, we’d better have the discussion now.”

He opened the door to a universe of infinite possibilities, and smiled at her. "No shrimp."

"One of these days," said Rory, "I'm going to decide which of you two is the craziest."

"Hey," Amy said, with an instant frown.

The Doctor paused. "Well, isn't that obvious? It's me!"


End file.
